


Healing

by reliquiaen



Series: Skimmons Week 2014 [4]
Category: Agents of SHIELD - Fandom
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 09:23:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3405491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reliquiaen/pseuds/reliquiaen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The alarm carried through the whole farm and soon there were archers on roofs as well. Honestly, how many of them were there?" - AU. Day four of Skimmons Week.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Healing

Skye had never been one to mess with magic. Not ever. Her stubbornness was the stuff of legend. Jemma just found it immensely irritating.

And it wasn’t that Jemma didn’t completely understand where she was coming from (she did), but there was a place for magic in the world. It had uses. There was absolutely no reason for her to be as doggedly resistant to being under its affects. In some cases they were simply practical.

But whenever Jemma cast protective charms over the team before a mission, Skye was suspiciously absent. Consistently.

“Does anyone know where Skye is?” she asked her friends.

Ward maintained his usual stony silence while she renewed the spells on his oversized axe and armour. The symbols glowed blue briefly before fading into the metal, leaving only a polished black surface behind. Her gaze cut across to Fitz, stringing his bow in one corner. He shook his head. May’s head only twitched to the side – her stoic version of a ‘no’.

Mumbling another quiet, “Pysyvän vahvana,” she waited until the protective charm had settled into Ward’s breastplate, tapping it once with her knife to watch – satisfied – as the blue magic surfaced, swirling under the impact and dispelling any harm it might’ve caused. Then she stepped around the fire to where May was waiting with her swords. Wordlessly, the other woman held out her weapons. The spells on her armour almost never needed retouching. Somehow the lightning fast warrior always managed to avoid getting hit during a mission.

Finally, Fitz and his bow were the only ones left. “Are you sure you haven’t seen her?” she whispered to him quietly, making sure the fire enchantments on his quiver were still active. 

“Haven’t seen her since breakfast,” he replied. Fitz arched an eyebrow. “And even if I _did_ know where she was, you know she wouldn’t want you casting on her anyway. She’s difficult like that.”

She exhaled heavily because it’s the truth. Regardless of how much Jemma might want to make sure Skye was safe in a pinch, her stubborn girlfriend wasn’t having any of it. And that should probably make her angry, but it didn’t. Just worried to her stomach.

The spell sank into the wood of Fitz’s bow, reinforcing it so the string wouldn’t snap. As Jemma finished, straightening out the satchels around her waist, Coulson arrived with their horses and Skye. Jemma eyed her anxiously, but Skye just smiled, completely unperturbed by the fact that she was woefully unprotected.

“Are we all set?” Coulson asked them, fingers fiddling with one of the straps on his left bracer. “All we have to do is get the king’s armour back and we can be sleeping in nice feather down beds tonight, so let’s hop to it.”

“Sir,” Fitz began, throwing one leg over his saddle, shrugging his bow into place on his back. “What if one of the bandits is… um… _wearing_ the armour?”

Coulson blinked, obviously not having considered that a possibility. “We take it off him,” he said. And really that should’ve been evident. “I don’t plan on leaving any of these thugs alive, Fitz,” he added, turning Lola’s russet nose towards their destination.

Skye’s horse fell into step beside Jemma as they filed towards the ruined farmhouse where the thieves were taking refuge. She offered a cheeky smile. “Hey, Jems. I made sure I got your favourite horse.”

“You don’t have any charms,” Jemma told her bluntly. “What if you get hurt?”

“I won’t get hurt,” Skye reassured her confidently. “I never do.” She tapped the leather armour over her sternum proudly. “May’s prodigy remember?”

“That doesn’t make you invincible,” she pleaded. “Just one spell? Please? Protection against arrows at least? I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to save you if you get hurt. My discipline isn’t in the healing arts.”

“No, Jemma,” Skye muttered. “I don’t do magic. You know that.”

“I’d sleep easier if…” At the surprisingly stern look she got then Jemma fell quiet. She did know that. She knew not to push it. Magic was the reason Skye had no parents. It wasn’t her place to push.

She did sometimes wonder how Skye could bare to kiss a mage. Not that she wanted to come up with reasons for that to stop. But she did wonder.

It took them maybe an hour to reach the farmstead, tethering their horses to trees out of sight of the house. They crouched in the long grass off the dirt highway and waited. May would scope it out and let them know what they were dealing with. It shouldn’t be too hard.

Shouldn’t.

But it was.

Cries rang through the cold afternoon air. May’s dark shape appeared on one side of the barn, forced back by a trio of swordsmen. The alarm carried through the whole farm and soon there were archers on roofs as well. Honestly, how many of them were there?

Fitz ducked away, finding a nice safe place to shoot from, picking enemy archers off. They did stand out horribly against the blue of the sky. In a flash, Ward and Skye were gone from her side and Coulson, shield and pike at the ready, was scampering over to the main house.

Jemma cursed every rock and river in the land and darted after him. She stayed as low as she could, keeping her eyes on Coulson – the only member of their team she could still see. He had his shield up, jabbing past it at a man in tattered skins with a falchion. A manic fellow with a sword-breaker barrelled out of the house then, coming straight for them. Coulson – too preoccupied with his falchion bandit – wouldn’t be of much use to her. She kept him between her and the approaching man, whipping one hand up in an arc, erecting a simple barrier between Coulson and the swordsman. Then she launched a fireball at him (a spell so simple no focus words were required anymore), his greasy rags catching easily. He scrambled off, screaming just as Coulson’s pike caught the other fellow in the throat.

He nodded to her when he straightened before haring off again. She rolled her eyes, rounding the building and leaving Coulson to his own devices. She paused at the corner, watching a pair of men crossing the yard. One of them lifted a bent blade and said something to his friend. Jemma merely took a deep breath, and muttered a soft, “Maa niellä.” The ground beneath the men snapped open, massive ridged jaws swallowing them whole. It rumbled a little before returning to normal.

Ward cannoned around the side of the barn then, two men with longswords hot on his heels. He nodded at Jemma, knowing how her magic worked and more than willing to go along with it. She waved a hand in a long motion and murmured her enchantment, “Tuulen pauhu.” Then she snapped her hands towards her chest as Ward spun, bracing himself against a fence. The wind at their backs leapt up, pushing the men off balance and carrying them into Ward’s little circle of death. His axe flashed and they crumpled to the dirt.

“May found the armour,” he called to her. “She and Coulson are retrieving it now.”

Jemma waved to acknowledge that she’d heard. She went looking for Skye, the others would be fine, but knowing her, the brash woman would’ve gotten herself stuck on a lance by now. The farmhouse was a sprawling three storey affair, crumbling now and missing most of its roof. There was nothing in any of the windows, no boards and no curtains. Most of the doors were gone as well. But plenty of the walls were sound, providing blind corners for ambushes. 

So she pulled her knife from its sheath on her thigh and kept the other hand ready to cast a barrier spell. Fire would be no good in these close confines.

The floorboards creaked and she pressed herself against a wall, knife held low. Sucking in a deep breath to fortify bravery she didn’t feel, Jemma wheeled around the corner, a binding spell on her lips. The word died in a sigh of relief when she found Skye crouched and ready to spring from beside the table of what had once been the kitchen.

“Jemma,” she said happily, standing. A smile burst to life before Jemma could think to stop it. “How are we doing? I heard some rather ominous sounds before. Earthquake?”

Jemma rolled her eyes. “You think too highly of me. I just dropped them in a hole. The others are leaving. We got the armour.”

“I think a few of them bugged out though,” Skye told her, frowning. “We might have pursuit.”

“If we make it to the city we won’t have to worry.”

“I don’t like running away from guys, Jems.”

She puffed her cheeks out before letting all the breath leave her. “Me too.”

Still, they headed outside to meet up with the others. The sooner they left the better in Jemma’s opinion. It wasn’t to be.

Three men stopped as they came up the side of the house, eyes widening when they saw Jemma and Skye. One of them leered, a whistle singing between his yellowed teeth. They drew their weapons.

“Call the ginger,” one of them chuckled darkly.

Jemma snorted, her knife leaving her hand as she flicked her wrist. It caught the suddenly surprised bandit in the throat. And while the action might have been particularly satisfying, it did now leave her unarmed in a close quarter’s predicament. Not good.

Skye’s slender blade flew into her grasp and she lunged, using her speed and size to her advantage. Jemma blurted her binding charm from before, her target’s ankles snapped together and he hit the ground face first, arms trapped at his sides. He offered her a glare from the dirt. She merely tightened her spell, locking his jaw shut.

The other man had a hole in his stomach, intestines leaking out as he collapsed, but Skye wasn’t where she’d been a moment before. Jemma spun, wondering where she’d gone. Her eyes landed on Skye just as the other woman made an unhealthy gurgling sound and fell to her knees.

Jemma’s eyes whisked up, picking out the archer hiding behind a cart. “Tuhkaa,” she screamed at him, not waiting to see him turn to dust before falling down beside Skye. Her hands shook as she pressed them against Skye’s shoulders. “Damn it, Skye,” she all but sobbed. “I’m not a healer. Why can’t you just let me protect you?”

Skye gave her a pitiful excuse for a smile. “I don’t do magic, Jems,” she whispered hoarsely. “Is it bad?”

Jemma’s fingers danced around the shaft of the arrow, not wanting to remove it but definitely not wanting to leave it there. “I… I don’t know,” she cried, brow pinched with worry. “I don’t know. Skye… God, Skye what happened?”

“He fired an arrow at you,” she rasped. “I can’t summon phantom shields though. So…” Her face scrunched up with the pain. The rest of her explanation came out in a rattling hum.

“Stay with me. Come on, Skye,” she pleaded, patting her cheek. “Just focus on me. You’ll be okay.” Jemma kissed her face gently. “Stay with me.”

“Mmm…” Skye mumbled. “Might have a nap.”

“No, no, no! Look at me.” Jemma’s voice was panicked and she knew it. She also didn’t care. “Look at my face, please.”

“Love you, Jems.”

“I love you, too, you right fool. Just look at me.”

Skye’s eyes fluttered closed.

 

XX

 

“I am _not_ a healing mage!”

Admittedly, those probably shouldn’t have been the first words out of her mouth when she realised Skye was awake.

“Hum… and it’s good to see you too,” Skye joked. “What happened?”

Jemma exhaled, slumping – relieved – onto the edge of Skye’s bed. “You passed out,” she explained, stroking her fingers through Skye’s hair. “Ward helped me get you back here but you’d lost a lot of blood. Thankfully the king has some healers on his staff and they patched you up.” She leaned over to leave a lingering kiss on the corner of Skye’s mouth. “I was so worried.”

Skye just hummed; the sound vibrating through Jemma’s lips. “I’m okay though, right? I’m fine.”

“You nearly gave me a heart attack. Don’t ever do that again.”

“Sorry.” But the impish smile flickering to life on Skye’s face said that no matter how much Jemma warned her, she’d keep doing stupid things. It’s who she was. 

“You’re bed bound for at least a week,” Jemma informed her tartly.

“But–” 

“No ‘buts’,” she said decisively. “If you’re not going to let me put protective enchantments on you to prevent this kind of thing, then you have to live with the consequences. I’m not letting you up until I know for sure that you’re back to you usual perfect self.”

Skye’s eyes widened incredulously. “That sounds awful. Why the ultimatum?”

“Because I’d _miss_ you if you weren’t here,” Jemma sighed, winding her fingers into Skye’s. “And since you’re so insistent on the healers fixing you…”

“Wait.” Skye held up a hand, eyebrows drawn together. “You said healers. As in medical mages?”

“That’s them.”

Her jaw dropped and her free hand whipped up to prod at her shoulder. “You let the magical weirdoes work their hoodoo on me?”

Jemma laughed at her. “I’m a magical weirdo,” she reminded her. 

“No, you’re Jemma,” Skye corrected her. “My beautiful Jems. You’re only a weirdo for hanging out with me.”

“They used their magic on you, yes,” she agreed. “So you didn’t die and leave me in pieces.”

“Oh,” Skye breathed. “Well then. I guess that means my streak is broken.”

Jemma’s eyebrow quirked upwards. “Your what?”

“My streak,” Skye insisted. “I went thirteen years without having magic done to me. And now the run is over. So you can do your protective things to me, I guess. Miles owes me _a lot_ of money.”

That took a moment to process, but when it clicked Jemma’s jaw swung open. She swatted at Skye’s good arm. “You wouldn’t let me enchant your armour because of some stupid _bet_ with that street rat who nearly got you _killed_ four years ago?” she just about screeched. “That’s not funny,” she grouched when Skye started laughing, smacking her shoulder again.

“It’s kind of funny,” Skye chortled.

Jemma sighed, slumping down to lie on the bed and wrap an arm around Skye’s waist. “Will you let me put spells on you now?” she questioned, her breath stirring Skye’s hair.

“Mmm, sure. You can put more spells on me.”

“More spells?”

Skye grinned, tilting her head so she could kiss Jemma slowly. “I’m already under one spell of yours. What’s a few more?”


End file.
